The Telegram
by TT-5
Summary: Foyle stared at the telegram in his shaking hand and closed his eyes, praying for a miracle. A miracle that would bring his son back to him and erase the horrible words, "missing in action."
1. Chapter 1

A/N: All mistakes are my own and I own nothing but my imagination. Maggie and Grace Reid are 9 and 6 respectively at the time of this story.

November 25, 1941

Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle and Detective Sergeant Milner had just come in from a call and were making their way down the hallway, discussing what they had learned. Foyle listened carefully to what Milner was saying, nodding in agreement and then glanced down at the telegram that he had collected from the front desk upon his return.

"_DCS Foyle. Regret to inform you. Squadron Leader A. Foyle, 542 Squadron. Reported missing in action 24 November 1941. Will notify if situation changes. RAF Coastal Command._"

Foyle froze in the doorway of his office, his blood running cold as he re-read the message. Milner was still talking but he could no longer make out the words over the buzzing in his ears. "Reported missing in action, 24, November 1941." The buzzing grew louder, and he suddenly felt his knees give way.

"Sir!" Milner, who had been studying his boss with concern, lunged forward and caught Foyle's arm just in time to prevent him toppling to the ground. "Mr. Foyle? Sir, are you alright?"

Foyle didn't even appear to have heard him. He stood there ashen faced and shaking, Milner's firm grip on his arm the only thing keeping him on his feet.

"Sir?" Milner tried again, a sinking feeling growing in his gut as he remembered the telegram that was clutched in the DCS' now shaking hand. He could think of only one type of telegram that would have this affect on his boss and he prayed to God he was wrong.

When Foyle still didn't respond Milner took a deep breath and carefully drew Foyle's arm over his shoulders and wrapped a steadying arm around his waist. "Think you'd better sit down Sir." He said quietly as he led Foyle, somewhat haltingly, toward the desk.

Thankfully Foyle seemed to have recovered himself enough to put one foot in front of the other and Milner was soon lowering him carefully into his chair. "Just sit for a minute Sir." Milner said softly, trying to keep his voice calm.

There was no response so he strode quickly to the door. Thankfully Sam was just going passed as he stepped out into the hall. "Sam."

"Hullo Milner, I was just going to…"

"Sam I need you to go and find Mr. Reid and bring him to Mr. Foyle's office immediately."

Milner's voice was tight with worry and Sam froze, "Paul what is it? Has something happened to Mr. Foyle?" Her face and tone were concerned and pleading but Milner shook his head.

"Not now Sam. Please, just find Mr. Reid as quick as you can."

Sam nodded and hurried off down the hall in the direction of the Superintendent's office. Milner closed his eyes for a moment, praying fervently that Mr. Reid was currently at the station before taking a deep breath and going back into Foyle's office.

The DCS was sitting exactly as he had left him; staring unseeingly at the desk in front of him, telegram still clutched in his shaking hand. Milner took another deep breath and crossed back to the desk, "Mr. Foyle? Sir, can you hear me?"

When Foyle didn't react he laid a tentative hand on DCS' shoulder, frowning as he felt the tremors running through the older man's body. "Mr. Reid should be here soon Sir. Is there anything I can get you?"

As he had expected there was no reply and at a loss for what else to do, Milner tightened his grip slightly. He briefly considered looking at the telegram but immediately dismissed it as an unacceptable breach of Mr. Foyle's privacy, what ever it was, he would tell them in his own time. But Milner couldn't help praying that Mr. Reid would get here soon.

Thankfully, two minutes later Milner got his wish and the door opened to admit a concerned looking Hugh Reid and a slightly out of breath Sam. They both froze at the sight of Foyle's ashen face. "Christopher?" "Sir?"

Foyle didn't respond to either address and Milner cleared his throat. "Sam, if you wouldn't mind making some tea? Strong and sweet for Mr. Foyle, he can have my sugar ration."

Sam nodded, eyes round with worry and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Reid, who had approached the desk and was studying Foyle with concern, glanced up at Milner. "What happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure Sir. We were discussing the case and then Mr. Foyle read the telegram that had come for him and well, I think he almost passed out Sir. He didn't." Milner added quickly at Reid's shocked intake of breath. "Just went terribly pale and rather shaky. I've tried to talk to him but he hasn't responded."

Reid nodded and crouched down in front of his friend. "Christopher? Christopher can you hear me?"

Foyle didn't react. "Shall I call Dr. White Sir?" Milner asked with concern.

Reid thought for a moment and then shook his head, "no, not yet anyway, lets see if some tea does the trick first."

Milner nodded and glanced toward the door again, hoping that Sam would be along soon.

When Sam appeared 10 minutes later with the tea tray little had changed despite Reid's efforts to engage Foyle in conversation, and Milner could only shake his head slightly at Sam's silent question.

Sam swallowed hard and set the tray down carefully on the desk. "Here's Mr. Foyle's tea and I thought we could all do with a cup as well."

Her voice shook slightly but didn't break and Milner smiled encouragingly at her, "thank you Sam. Why don't we take ours in my office? Unless you need me Sir?"

The last was directed at Reid who shook his head, "no, thank you Milner and thank you for the tea Sam." He gave her a weak smile that never reached his eyes.

"Not at all Sir." Sam replied her eyes fixed anxiously on Mr. Foyle's pale face.

Milner nodded, "I'll be in my office then if you need me Sir. Sam?"

Sam nodded and picking up two mugs of tea quietly left the room, Milner following a little more slowly behind her.

Once Sam and Milner had gone Reid took a deep breath and looked down at Foyle again. "Christopher Sam's made you some tea and I want you to try and drink it all right?" He placed the mug in Foyle free hand, very relieved when Foyle obediently brought it to his lips and took a sip.

Reid waited until Foyle had finished about half and then took the cup from him and set it on the desk. Perching himself on the corner of the desk he placed a hand on Foyle's shoulder. "What's happened Christopher? Is it something to do with Andrew?"

At the mention of his son's name Foyle shuddered violently and when he looked up at Hugh there was so much anguish in his eyes that Reid felt his breath catch in his throat. "He's missing." Foyle murmured, his voice hardly more than a hoarse whisper.

Reid closed his eyes briefly and tightened his grip on Foyle's shoulder, "what do you mean missing?" He asked gently.

Foyle held out the telegram and Reid scanned it quickly, his heart sinking as it confirmed his worst fears; Andrew had been missing in action since yesterday.

He looked at his friend and suddenly realized there were truly no words for some situations. Nothing he could say would ease the terrible grief-stricken look on Christopher's face. He swallowed hard, "_Oh Christopher_, I'm so dreadfully sorry."

Foyle nodded distractedly, his eyes fixed on the picture of Andrew that had been taken right after he got his wings. "He could still turn up fine." Reid said after a bit.

The words felt hollow even as he said them. They had both seen too many friends killed in action, and later reported "missing" because their bodies had yet to be recovered, to take much comfort from the faint sliver of hope that the words offered.

He pressed the mug back into Foyle's hands and for a long time they sat in silence, sipping their tea, lost in the memories of a young man who might never again appear at the station covered in mud and grinning broadly while he explained 'why it really wasn't his fault.'

After a bit Reid cleared his throat, "Can I call anyone for you Christopher? Charles?"

Foyle shook his head, "rather wait a day or two, till we know…" He trailed off with another shudder and Reid nodded.

"Of course. You finished?"

Foyle nodded, his eyes once again straying back to Andrew's picture. Reid squeezed his shoulder as he stood. "I'll just grab my coat and then we'll go."

Foyle didn't respond so Reid just squeezed his shoulder again and taking the mugs quietly left the room.

After stopping briefly in the kitchen he knocked briskly on Milner's door.

"Yes?"

Reid let himself in, waving Milner and Sam down as they went to stand. "How is he Sir?" Sam asked anxiously.

Reid took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, "this goes no further, understood?" Sam and Milner nodded immediately so he continued. "Christopher received a telegram from Coastal Command informing him that Andrew was reported missing in action yesterday."

Sam gave a horrified gasp, her eyes immediately filling with tears while Milner bowed his head in silent consternation as his fears were confirmed. For a moment there was silence and then Sam asked tearfully, "he could still turn up couldn't he Sir? I mean if he's just missing?"

There was a pleading note to her voice and Reid cursed himself for forgetting that she and Andrew had stepped out briefly; he really could have broken the news a little more gently.

"It is possible Sam." Milner agreed gently. _Possible but not likely_ Reid shudder slightly, Milner knew as well as he did how often 'missing' really meant 'dead.'

"Is there anything we can do Sir? For Mr. Foyle I mean?" Milner asked quietly.

Reid shook his head. "Not really, Sam if you could run us back to Christopher's house I'd appreciate it."

Sam nodded and stood, "of course Sir, I'll go and bring the car around now."

"Thank you."

Once she had left he turned back to Milner, "I'm going to need you to run things here for a few days Milner. With Christopher and I both away you're the senior man. You can tell Sergeant Rivers if you need to but I don't want word about Andrew getting around the station until we know for sure one way or the other."

Milner nodded, "of course Sir. Don't worry I'll see that everything's taken care of."

Reid nodded, offering Milner a weak smile. "I'm sure you will Milner. If you need me for anything you know my number, I'll probably be at Christopher's for the next few days at least."

"Yes Sir. Please give my condolences to Mr. Foyle and if there's anything I can do…"

Reid nodded again, "thank you Milner, now I should go, wouldn't want to keep Sam waiting." Milner nodded and the two men shook hands before Reid left the room, heading toward his own office.

Once inside Reid sank into his chair and buried his head in his hands as he allowed himself a moment to grieve the young man he loved like a nephew. After several minutes he raised his head and reached for the telephone with a slightly shaky hand. He needed to tell Elaine and this would be his only opportunity to do so without the risk of Christopher overhearing.

As he waited for the call to go through he glanced at the clock, relieved to see that the girls would still be at school. As hard as it would be to tell Elaine the idea of having to tell Maggie and Grace that Andrew was never coming home again broke his heart anew and he could barely responded when Elaine answered.

"Hullo?"

"Elaine?" His voice was very rough and he quickly cleared his throat.

"Hugh, are you all right? What's happened?"

Reid closed his eyes, hating himself for doing this over the phone but knowing he had no other choice. "Elaine, love, you might want to sit down."

"Hugh?" The worry in Elaine's voice was palpable and Reid took a deep breath.

"Christopher got a telegram from the RAF this morning, Andrew was reported missing in action yesterday." He spoke gently but nothing could soften the reality of his words.

"No Hugh! Not Andrew!"

Hugh closed his eyes against his own tears as he listened to his wife cry, "I know love. I'm so sorry to tell you over the phone but I'm not sure when I'll be home and I had to tell you."

There were a few shaky breaths but when Elaine spoke her voice only wavered slightly, "Do you want me to come over to Christopher's? I could ask Mrs. Answorth to watch the girls."

Reid shook his head, "no, thank you darling, I can manage tonight and after that we'll see."

"There's still a chance that he's all right isn't there Hugh? If it just said that he was missing?"

Her voice had the same pleading tone as Sam's and Reid sighed, "Yes there's a chance love, but not a large one."

Neither of them spoke for several minutes and then Elaine asked softly, "How's Christopher?"

"About as well as you'd expect. According to Milner he almost passed out when he read the telegram and he's been in shock ever since."

"That poor man, it just isn't fair. Oh this dreadful, dreadful war!" There were tears in her voice again and all Reid could do was nod.

"I know love." After a few moments Hugh rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat, "sorry love but I ought to go, I need to get Christopher home."

"Of course you do. Shall I bring something over for supper?"

Reid thought for a minute and then shook his head, "Thank you love but I doubt he'd eat it. I suspect I'll be lucky if I get some tea and toast into him."

"What about you though Hugh, you need to eat too."

"I will love, promise. I'm so sorry for all of this."

"It's not your fault Hugh, not in the slightest. Don't you dare blame yourself."

"I mean I'm sorry for telling you over the phone, I wanted to come home but I don't want to leave Christopher."

"No of course, I understand Hugh and I love you very much."

"I love you too Elaine more than anything." He murmured his voice thick with emotion "Not sure what I'd do without you and the girls." He cleared his throat again, "I don't think we should tell the girls yet, like you said there's still a chance and they love him so much Elaine." Hugh's voice cracked slightly and he brought a hand up to cover his eyes.

Elaine blinked back fresh tears at Hugh's words. The girls adored Andrew, he had been a constant source of love and attention all their lives, "I know Hugh. We won't tell them yet, I'll just say you had to stay late at the station."

Reid nodded, "good thinking love. I'll try and call around bedtime to say goodnight but it will depend on Christopher."

"Take care of him Hugh."

Elaine's voice was thick with compassion and Hugh nodded, "I will darling, now I must go, I'll definitely call in the morning if I can't call later. I love you."

"I love you too Hugh."

They rang off and Reid ran a weary hand over his face before getting to his feet and heading for the door.

Getting Christopher out of the station was easier then he had feared although he wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing. Foyle was clearly still in shock and allowed Reid to guide him out and into the car without a word.

In fact Foyle didn't speak until Reid had helped him out of his hat and coat and ushered him into the lounge. He suddenly froze and looked around, almost as if he were seeing it for the first time. "I waited here for him to be born you know?" He murmured his voice so broken that it made Reid's heartache. "He was the most beautiful baby, and we were so happy that day, Rose and I." He trailed off his eyes coming to rest on Rosalind's picture.

Reid turned and busied himself pouring scotch as he blinked back his tears. He hadn't thought he would ever see Christopher more broken than he had been immediately after Rosalind's death but he had been wrong. Worse than that there was nothing he could do to fix it.

He settled instead for steering Foyle gently into his armchair and pressing the tumbler of scotch into his hand, "have a drink Christopher it will help with the shock." Foyle obeyed and for a long time they sat in silence.

Little changed as the hours wore on, Hugh did the blackout, made a pot of tea, convinced Christopher to take off his jacket and tie and eat a slice of toast. But for the most part they sat in silence.

The silence and grief seemed to be pressing in on them and Reid had to fight the urge to pace the room. He had never been as quiet or prone to introspection as Christopher and he longed for something to 'do,' something tangible that he could accomplish.

His suggestion that Christopher headed up to bed was met with a silent shake of the head and given that it was highly unlikely that Foyle would sleep even if he went to bed, Reid didn't press it.

He did convince Foyle to join him on the settee however, moving close enough that their shoulders touched slightly. It wasn't much but he wanted Christopher to know that he was not alone in his silent grief.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you very much for the kind reviews :)

November 26, 1941

He must have fallen asleep at some point for when Reid awoke with a crick in his neck he found Foyle sitting in his chair again, several letters in his lap.

"Christopher?" He asked cautiously, in case there had been an early telegram.

Foyle looked up, seeming slightly surprised that Hugh was there. "He always made it sound like such fun Hugh, the flying. He always wanted to fly, even as a boy."

Reid nodded sadly, "I know Christopher." When Foyle didn't respond after several minutes Reid pushed himself to his feet, "I'll put the kettle on."

After a simple breakfast that Foyle had hardly touched, Reid did the washing up and pulled up the blackout curtains before rejoining Foyle in the lounge to anxiously await further news. An hour later there had been no telegram or call from the station so Reid excused himself to call Elaine.

It was Saturday but thankful the girls were playing outside when he called. They decided that he would call Dr. White and have him come over to have a look at Christopher if nothing had changed by that evening. It would also give Hugh a chance to come home and get a change of clothes and his shaving kit as well as something for their supper.

They were just discussing what to do about church when there was a sudden crash from the lounge. Reid jumped moving to peer around the doorway. Foyle was standing in front of the fireplace staring at a shattered glass tumbler. "Elaine I have to go. I'll call you later."

Reid rang off and hurried into the lounge relieved that Foyle hadn't moved. "Steady on Christopher, I'll just grab the dustpan." Foyle nodded distractedly and Reid strode quickly toward the kitchen.

It didn't take long to clean up the glass and he soon had Foyle settled back in his armchair with a strong cup of tea. Whether the glass had slipped or been thrown Reid wasn't sure but he wasn't about to ask. Christopher had every right to rage and storm and one broken glass was hardly something to get worked up about it.

The day progressed much as the one before it had; they mostly sat in silence broken only by Reid's attempts to get Foyle to eat and drink and Foyle's occasional heartbreaking comments.

"Remember that year the Arrows were in the league final? You would have thought it was the World Cup with how excited Andrew was."

"He always wanted a dog but Rose said he brought enough dirt into the house as it was."

"He…he was supposed to have some leave soon, talked about going to the river."

There was nothing Reid could do except listen and he breathed a sigh of relief when Foyle finally fell into an exhausted slumber a few hours after blackout.

He ran a weary hand over his face, he need to call Elaine and then White, hopefully Christopher would sleep for a few hours…

Suddenly there was loud knocking on the front door and Reid hurried to answer it before whomever it was woke Christopher. It was the first time he had gotten any sleep since hearing about Andrew and Reid would be damned if he let some impatient fool wake him now.

He pulled the door open "What's so damned important that…" He trailed off, staring in shock at the man before him, a man he had thought he would never see again. "_Andrew_? How on Earth?"

Andrew gave him a weak smile, "I'll explain later Mr. Reid I need to see Dad." His left arm was in a sling and he looked exhausted but he was very much alive and Reid could only nodded mutely as he stood aside to let him pass.

Closing the door Hugh turned to find Andrew standing in the doorway of the lounge staring in shock at the sight of his father asleep across the settee. "Dad?" He sounded like a frightened little boy and Reid squeezed his uninjured shoulder comfortingly.

"He'll be all right Andrew, more than all right now that you're here."

Andrew nodded distractedly as he slowly made his way toward his father, taking in his pale features, and the dark circles under his eyes that were emphasized by the stubble on his chin. He swallowed hard, kneeling beside the settee and reaching out hesitantly to touch his father's shoulder. "Dad? Dad wake up."

Foyle's eyes flickered open and he felt his heart break yet again as he found himself staring into Andrew's concerned face. The cruelty of such a dream was too much and he closed his eyes tightly trying to block it out.

"Dad? _Dad_ it's me, Andrew. I'm all right Dad."

Foyle's eyes flew open again, "Andrew?"

It came out as a rough croak but Andrew nodded "Yes Dad I'm here."

Foyle blinked and then pinched himself hard. When the scene remained unchanged he dared to allow himself to hope, reaching out a tentative hand to cup his son's cheek. "Andrew?"

Andrew had tears in his eyes as he brought his right handed up to cover his father's; not since his mother died had he seen his father this broken. "Yes Dad, it's me. I'm so sorry they sent that bloody telegram."

Whether it was the touch or the mention of the telegram Foyle wasn't sure, but suddenly he realized that this was real, his beautiful son really was here in front of him, alive. He slide off the settee on to his knees and pulled Andrew to him, holding him tightly and running a hand over the back of his head. "Andrew how?"

"It was all a bloody cock-up Dad. I'm here, I'm fine."

"Thought I'd lost you." Foyle's voice was thick as he blotted his tears on Andrew's hair and Andrew tightened his grip with his one good arm.

"_Oh Dad_, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I promise I'm all right."

Reid, who had been standing silently in the doorway, turned toward the kitchen, tears shining in his own eyes as he left Christopher and Andrew to their tearful reunion. He didn't know what had happened, what mix up had resulted in Christopher receiving that God-awful telegram, but as he waited for the kettle to boil he bowed his head and offered a silent prayer of thanks for Andrew's miraculous return.

By the time he came back in with the tea tray, Christopher and Andrew were seated on the settee, Foyle's hand resting on the back of Andrew's neck as they spoke quietly together.

Reid cleared his throat, "sorry to interrupt but I thought we could all do with some tea."

Foyle and Andrew smiled up at him, "thank you Hugh, Andrew was just about to tell me what happened."

Andrew nodded and then grimaced slightly as he shifted. Foyle frowned and tightened his hand on the back of Andrew's neck, "Andrew?"

"Just my shoulder Dad, dislocated it, again." The last was said with a wry smile and Foyle had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Andrew had dislocated that shoulder twice playing rugby before he went off to Oxford and at least once since.

"Right, well you should know to keep it still then. Here let me get that for you."

Once they were all situated with their tea Andrew took a deep breath and began. "It was just a normal op really, scramble, fight Jerry and come back. Except as I was turning back a Jerry came out from behind a cloud and winged me. I got him back but not before he got a few good hits in on my engine."

He paused and took a sip of tea. "I managed to limp back most of the way, but I knew there was no way I could land so once I was over a field where I knew my spit wouldn't damage anything I jumped. Everything was going fine till a crosswind blew me into some trees, my chute got tangled and I was stuck. I tried calling but there was no one around. Took a while to work my knife free and then a bit longer to cut myself down."

He gave his father another wry smile. "Probably not one of the smarter things I've done, I was a bit higher up than I realized. Knocked the wind out of myself and hurt my shoulder when I fell. It was starting to grow dark by then and I didn't know where I was, I couldn't go back to my spit in case it went up so I wandered around for a bit until I found the road. I wasn't sure which way the base was so I just started walking, figured I had to come across a farm or something eventually."

"Must have passed a few in the dark because it was dawn before I found one. The farmer took me in, helped me get my shoulder sorted and his wife made me breakfast. Once he was through with chores he gave me a lift back to base. Didn't get back till around tea. By that point they'd already sent off the casualty reports and before they could call in the correction a storm knocked out the lines."

Andrew stopped and looked at his father earnestly, "I wanted to leave right away Dad but the Wing Co. wouldn't let me. Said the lines would be up soon enough and I could call you, wanted me to get my shoulder looked at. Of course they didn't get the lines up and by the time I was able to convince them to let me go to Hastings I'd missed the afternoon train. I took the night train to Reading and then went on to London in the morning. The tracks had been damaged in a raid the night before and between hospital and troop trains it was nearly tea by the time we finally left the station."

"I came as soon as I could Dad. I'm so sorry they sent that bloody telegram." Andrew's voice was full of regret and worry and Foyle nodded squeezing the back of his neck comfortingly.

"I know Andrew, not your fault."

"But they made you think…"

"Yes, but none of that matters now. You're here, that's all I need."

Andrew nodded a let himself relax back against the settee with a groan. "God I'm tired."

Foyle's eyebrows drew together with concern, "How long has it been since you slept?"

"Oh I caught a few hours on the train but it's been a busy few weeks." He tried to shrug only to let out a hiss of pain as his recently dislocated shoulder protested.

Foyle was fully aware of what a 'busy few weeks' probably entailed and felt his frown deepen. "Best get you cleaned up so you can rest then."

"Could say the same to you Dad. Don't think I've ever seen you with a beard before." Andrew's cheeky grin helped to lift the lingering heartache that the past 30 hours had caused and Foyle rolled his eyes and cuffed the back of his head affectionately.

"Cheeky lad."

Reid smiled at the pair of them and then cleared his throat, "Well unless there's something I can do I should get off home and let Elaine know that Andrew is alive and well. I'll be back later with supper though."

"Hugh there's really no need." Foyle began as he got to his feet but Reid cut him off.

"No Christopher I insist. Elaine will already have made you something anyway."

Foyle could see that Hugh would not be swayed and inclined his head in acquiescence. "Thank you Hugh and thank you for …" He trailed off rather awkwardly as he realized how little he remembered of what had happened since he received that bloody telegram. He knew Hugh had been there, his voice emerging now and then through the painful fog that had descended on him, his strong hands guiding him gently, just as they had after Rosalind died.

He looked up as Reid laid a hand on his shoulder, "Don't mention it old man." Reid's voice and eyes were warm and all Foyle could do was nod.

Reid nodded back and then turned to look at Andrew holding out a hand, "Andrew I can't tell you how relieved I am that you're all right. You've given us all a dreadful fright and I'm afraid you'll have to put up with Elaine fussing at you a bit while you're home."

Andrew smiled slightly and then surprised Reid by getting up and giving him a one-armed hug, "I'm sorry Sir and thank you for looking after Dad."

Andrew's voice was low, meant for his ears only and Reid replied in an equally quiet tone, "No trouble son." And then in a louder voice, "Don't bloody do this again all right?"

Andrew chuckled softly as he pulled back, "Do my best not to Sir." He promised before blanching suddenly, "You didn't tell the girls did you? I mean they don't think…"

He looked horrified at the thought and Reid hastened to reassure him, "no, no, they don't know anything, we wanted to wait until we were sure."

Andrew closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief, "Thank God. I feel terrible enough for what I've put you, Dad and Mrs. Reid through, I'd hate for the girls to have thought that too."

Reid smiled softly; touched by how tenderly Andrew spoke about his daughters. "Not to worry, they're none the wiser and they'll be absolutely delighted to see you tomorrow, assuming you come to church of course."

"I'd imagine we would?" Andrew replied glancing questioningly at Foyle.

Foyle nodded, he had lot to thank God for after all.

As Foyle had expected Andrew was clearly much more exhausted and sore than he was letting on. He put up only a token protest before allowing his father to shave him and merely raised an eyebrow when Foyle announced his intention to shave while Andrew took his bath.

It was far from his first dislocated shoulder but Andrew had forgotten how difficult it was to do certain things with only one arm and he was grateful for his father's quiet efficiency.

By the time Reid came back with supper he found both men looking decidedly better and Andrew practically asleep on the settee. He perked up enough to devour the food Elaine had sent over, declaring it to be the best shepherds pie he had eaten in months before gratefully accepting the aspirin Foyle gave him.

With the washing up done Hugh took his leave, and not long after Foyle helped his exhausted son up to bed. Andrew was soon fast asleep but for a long time Foyle sat on the edge of the bed, watching his son sleep and gently running a hand through Andrew's hair, something he had thought he would never be able to do again.

November 27, 1941

Rarely had Christopher Foyle felt more grateful than he did that Sunday morning, with his son standing by his side as he thanked God yet again for Andrew's safety.

As soon as they exited the church Elaine Reid pulled Andrew into a tight hug, tears brimming in her eyes as she scolded him quietly for all the worry he'd caused them.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Reid, truly I am." Andrew murmured, stooping slightly as he hugged her as tightly as he could with one arm.

Elaine drew back and smiled softly at him, brushing the hair back from his forehead with motherly hand. "I know Andrew, and I'm so very glad that you're all right." Anything else she might have said was lost as Maggie and Grace came running toward them.

"Andrew!"

"Andrew you comed home to me!"

Foyle had to close his eyes against the swell of emotion that filled him as he heard Grace voice the words that had been resounding in his head since he had woken and found his son alive and whole before him.

He opened his eyes again as he felt Reid squeeze his shoulder and nodded at Hugh's silent question before turning to watch Andrew with the Reid girls. They were all laughing as the girls clung to Andrew's neck and Foyle felt his lips pull down into a smile at the sight of his son acting like the 22 year old that he was, instead of the experienced spitfire pilot that he had become.

"You will come over for tea won't you Christopher?" Elaine asked as she turned to smile at him, "there's more than enough and I don't think the girls are going to let him go anytime soon."

Foyle had to agree it seemed unlikely as he watched Andrew spin first Maggie and then Grace in a circle, the girls giggling in delight. "Thank you Elaine, that would be lovely."

Elaine smiled before calling out to her daughters, "Girls remember to be careful of Andrew's shoulder."

"We are Mummy." Maggie promised as Andrew gently threw a giggling Grace over his right shoulder and headed toward them.

"I believe this belongs to you Sir." He said to Hugh as he stopped in front of him, grinning broadly as he easily held a squirming Grace in place.

Hugh smiled back, reaching out to take his youngest daughter, "Is that so? Hmm, I'm not sure I recognize her, do you Elaine?"

"Daaddyyy! It's me!" Grace giggled as Hugh proceeded to tickle her.

Foyle drew his eyes from the happy scene as he felt Maggie slip her small hand into his. He glanced down and she smiled happily up at him. "I'm so glad Andrew came home again, aren't you Mr. Foyle?"

Foyle swallowed hard against the lump that had grown in his throat at the innocent question. He looked at his son through misty eyes and then back at the little girl who was blissfully unaware of how very unlikely this prospect had seemed a mere 24 hours earlier. "Yes Maggie, very glad."

His voice was a little rough and Andrew must have heard because he was suddenly beside him, a concerned look on his face. "Dad, you all right?"

Foyle looked at his son and then at the Reids and nodded, eyes bright, as he smiled softly at his son, "Never better Andrew."

The End

* * *

Additional notes: Arrow is the nickname of the Hastings United Football (soccer) team and they finished second in their league in the 1926-1927 season.


End file.
